


In His Dream

by calendarpages



Category: Glee
Genre: Drabble, Dreams, M/M, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calendarpages/pseuds/calendarpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two dreams and two dreamers connected by one idea; the need to love and be loved in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Dream

In his dream, the lips are soft against his. They're warm and solid and fit perfectly with his own, moving as if they were made to do just this.

In his dream the lips are hard against his. He doesn't want this, no, no, no, no. This was supposed to be beautiful and right. But it's not. It's forced and wrong, wrong, wrong. Everything is wrong, he's wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

In his dream, the lips move gently to his neck, pressing and nipping occasionally, sending shivers down his spine. The lips drift up to the place behind his left ear and suck hungrily at that spot. Nothing has ever felt so  _good_.

In his dream, the lips are gone in an instant, replaced by a sweaty palm to his shoulder, pushing him back. Everything is too hot, but not in the good way and he can hardly breath. He's stifling him. Just his presence is enough to make him gasp for breath but the feeling of his lips, rough and needy against his own? That leaves him choking and reeling and falling and dying. In that moment, he wants to die.

In his dream, soft, slender hands ghost up his sides, leaving a trail of fire and ice where they linger.

In his dream hot, fumbling paws grope blindly at his shirt and he wants nothing more than to swat them away but it feels as though his entire body is incased in ice.

In his dream, the lips finally return to his own and he relishes in their taste. Its familiar, entirely too much so, and he knows that he recognizes these lips somehow, although he knows he's never felt them like this before.

In his dream, he knows the feel of his hands and the smell of his breath all too well from previous encounters, all of which have left him feeling weak and terrified and exhausted. He knows who this person is, but his subconscious forces the name down because names equal faces and faces equal memories and he doesn't need any more of those right now.

In his dream, the lips and the feeling of another's presence above him are gone altogether too quickly and he snaps his eyes open, only then thinking to try to put a name to the lips that have been doing unimaginable things to his body. He catches a glimpse of clear ocean eyes and all of a sudden he  _knows_.

In his dream, the unwanted lips and the hulking body are finally gone. He thinks its over, that he'll wake up soon, covered in sweat and crying into his pillow, but its not. Warmth begins to spread through his chest like hot chocolate on a winter day. He recognizes this warmth, he knows this warmth, hell, he has a name for this warmth. It continues to shoot through his body until he fells full of it, all the weight of the unwanted kisses and touches gone, leaving a feeling of weightlessness and freedom. He feels free, for the first time, he feels free.

In his dream, he calls out; he calls the name of the boy he knows he loves. He longs for him in a way he's never longed for anyone before. The boy doesn't respond and all he sees is black and a constant flashing image of piercing blue eyes staring back at him.

In his dream, he calls out, he knows who brings him this warmth and he welcomes it. He wants more. With him, he always wants more but he's afraid that he'll never get it. Suddenly, a pair of perfect lips are pressing tentatively to his and he melts. This is the way it's supposed to feel. He responds eagerly and it surprises him how well they fit together, like puzzle pieces. Everything feels golden; there is no other way to describe it. The calloused fingers he's had the pleasure of getting to know are now reaching for his own, twining them together, connecting them in the most intimate way.

In his dream, he wakes up, the name of his love on his lips.

In his dream, he wakes up, calling for the one who can fix him, the broken boy that he his.

"Kurt."

"Blaine."

**Author's Note:**

> This has been cleaned up and moved from fanfiction.net.


End file.
